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May 25

The Cat Rapist Volume One

I still remember the first time I raped a cat. In retrospect it almost seems consensual in comparison to what happens now. I was 16. Grandma’s house. Christmas Eve. What a lovely site it should have been. But unfortunately for Kodak, while the snow covered the ground, Aveeno covered my dick. The rest of the family lie asleep, dreaming of what the day would bring. I lie awake, eyes bloodshot, brain blaring, dick obviously throbbing. I was furious. What had these morons been thinking when they brought me out here? “It’ll be good for you,” they had said “It’s good  to spend time with the family.” What a load of bullshit. I needed time with my lube and my laptop, and that’s about it on this goddamn green earth.

"Fuck christmas" I thought "Goddamn commercialized bullshit."  Get me a new bottle of Aveeno and a porn membership and I’ll be set for life. If only my mother understood this. She’d probably buy me some new sweaters or some bullshit. If only she knew all they’d be used for was semen clean-up. Although this was an area in which, to be frank, I needed all the help I could get. 

It was approximately 2:34 AM when I first saw her. Sparky was her name, a beautiful orange tabby. I took my hand off my dick, scratched the carpet and motioned for her to come over. She did, licking the Aveeno off my hands, which somehow only got me further aroused. I don’t really know why I was attracted to her, but there was no doubting I was. A man’s brain can lie to him, his dick, not so easily. My cock palpitated like a heart facing brokenness.  I could feel the rushing to blood to it. It was as if I had been masturbating in half limpness.

Something in this Tabby had awakened the soul of my genitalia. No longer was I due for another night of the mundane, almost obligatory masturbation  I had become accustomed to. Tonight something was different. “Tonight” I thought “I will enter a sexual hole.” And what a glamorous world it would be. A hand can only do so much, the possibilities of a hole are endless.

I grabbed the cat, held it to my face, and looked directly into its eyes. I suppose to the average rapist this would have been somewhat of a turnoff. To know this cute, sweet creature that gives joy to so many was the same one I was about to penetrate. Not to me. I held the creature with two hands, let off a nervous gasp and mindlessly thrust her towards my pelvis. Failure. I should have expected it, but in my horny exuberance I hadn’t been thinking of aim. Only penetration. “Ok, sweetie,” I thought “I see I’m gonna have to charm ya.” 

I held the cat above the tip of my penis and for one contemplative second I thought of a condom. This thought quickly dissolved when I realized the pleasures raw sex could bring. Whatever was in that cat, blood, feces, pussy moisture or something more foul, would cover my genitals. If the penetrating didn’t work out, at least I’d get an all natural lubricant out of the deal.  

With one Godly act of force, my genitals entered that of the cat. The animal then let off what must would deem the unholiest of screeches. But not to me. To me it was, and could only be, a pleasurable moan.